The last two agents were in Cuba, keeping an eye on developing political situations in that nation. The reports were that the aging Castro’s hold was beginning to fray. Whatever the dictator’s drawbacks — and they were considerable — his iron heel had ironically kept the entire Caribbean more or less stabilized. Whatever tyrant came to power in Haiti, Grenada, Antigua, or on any of the other islands still needed the approval of Castro to run arms or drugs or even maintain a sizeable military force. They knew that the Cuban leader would have rivals assassinated before he let them become too powerful. The concensus was that as soon as Castro was gone, chaos and not democracy would come to the island and to the region. The United States had a contingency plan, Operation Keel, to fill and control that power vacuum using the military and economic incentives. Op-Center’s agents were key parts of the EWAP network — early warning and preparedness — which was designed to pave the way for the plan.
Nine lives, Hood thought. And for each of those lives there were maybe two, three, or four dependents. That was not a responsibility to be taken lightly. He examined the afternoon reports and saw that the situations were relatively stable and unchanged. He closed the file.
These foreign operatives counted on their files and their communications with Op-Center to be absolutely secure. They contacted Op-Center by calling a telephone number at an office in Washington, an office that rented space to executives. The number was registered to Caryn Nadler International Travel Consultants. The operatives spoke in their native languages, though each word they used was assigned a different meaning in English. “Can I book a flight to Dallas?” in Arabic could mean “The Syrian President is gravely ill” in English. Though the translation files were all dedicated, seven people other than Paul Hood had access to them… and also to the identities of the operatives. Bob Herbert and Mike Rodgers were two of them and Darrell McCaskey was the third. Hood trusted them completely. But what about the other four people, two of them in Herbert’s office, one in McCaskey’s group, and one on Rodgers’s team? All of them had passed standard background checks, but were those checks thorough enough? Were the codes themselves sufficiently secure in the event that foreign surveillance picked them up? Unfortunately, one never knew the answer to that until someone disappeared or a mission was sabotaged or a team was ambushed.
There was peril in espionage and intelligence work. That was a given. For the operatives, the danger was also part of the excitement. Despite what had happened to Martha in Spain, Op-Center was doing everything it could to minimize the risks. At the moment, the shooting of Martha Mackall was being investigated by Darrell McCaskey, Aideen Marley, and Interpol in Spain. Mike Rodgers and Bob Herbert were studying intelligence reports here and Ron Plummer was talking to foreign diplomats in Washington and abroad. Carol Lanning was conferring with State Department contacts. Whether it was NASA, the Pentagon, or Op-Center, the cleanups were always so damn thorough.
In retrospect, why didn’t the preparations ever seem as careful? Hood asked himself. Because it was retrospect, dammit. They had the luxury of hindsight to see what they did wrong.
What had they done wrong here? Op-Center had had no choice about sending Martha. After Av Lincoln had suggested her name and Serrador had approved her, she had to go. As for Aideen working as her assistant instead of Darrell — it made complete sense. Aideen spoke the language, which Darrell did not. Serrador had risen from a working-class family and so had Aideen — Hood thought that might help them. And even if Darrell had been there with them, that probably wouldn’t have helped Martha. Not if she was the target.
Still, Hood was ashamed that the system had failed on his watch. Ashamed and also angry.
He was angry at so much right now he couldn’t focus on any one thing for long. He was angry at the cavalier way in which a life had been ended. Hood abhorred murder for any reason. When he had first come to Op-Center, he’d read a closed CIA file about a small assassination squad created during the Kennedy administration. Over a dozen foreign generals and diplomats were executed from 1961 to 1963. The justification for the existence of such a team was politically valid, Hood supposed. However, he had trouble accepting it morally — even if lives were saved in the long run.
But that was the tragedy about Martha’s death. It wasn’t as if a despot had been removed to improve the life of others, or a terrorist had been taken out to prevent a bombing or shooting. Someone had gunned down Martha to make a point. A point.
He was angry at the Spanish government. They had asked for help with satellite surveillance, to watch terrorist activities, and they’d gotten it. But when it came to giving help they were less than forthcoming. If they had any information about the shooting they weren’t sharing it. What little information Op-Center possessed had come from Darrell McCaskey, who had gotten it from his sources at Interpol. No one had claimed responsibility for the killing. Herbert’s surveys of the airwaves and fax transmissions to government and police offices had confirmed that. The getaway car had not been found either by ground or helicopter surveillance, and the National Reconnaissance Office at the Pentagon had been unable to spot it by satellite. The Spanish police were searching for a cortacarro, the Spanish equivalent of a chop shop. But if the car had been driven to one, no one expected to find the vehicle before it was dismantled. The bullets were undergoing chemical tests to see if their point of origin could be determined. By the time they were traced, and assuming whoever bought them could be identified, the trail would be cold. Finally, McCaskey reported that the mail carrier who had died had no criminal background. He appeared to be an unfortunate bystander.
Hood was also angry at himself. He should have had enough foresight instead of hindsight not to have let Martha and Aideen undertake what amounted to an undercover operation without a shadow or two, someone to watch their backs. Perhaps the gunman couldn’t have been stopped but maybe he could have been captured. Just because the job was clean — an office meeting instead of open surveillance or espionage — he’d let them go in alone. He hadn’t anticipated trouble. No one had. The congressional security office had a solid reputation and there was no reason to doubt their efficiency.
Martha had paid for his carelessness.
The office door was open and Ann Farris walked in. Hood looked up. She was dressed in an oyster-colored pantsuit, her brown hair bobbed chin-length. Her eyes were soft and her expression was compassionate. Hood glanced back at the computer monitor just to look away.
“Hi,” he said.
“Hi,” Ann replied. “How’re you doing?”
“Lousy,” Hood said. He opened a file Herbert had transmitted about Serrador. “What’s doing on your end?”
“A couple of reporters have connected Martha with Op-Center,” Ann said, “but only Jimmy George at the Post has figured out that she probably wasn’t there as a tourist. He agreed to hold the story for a day or two in exchange for some exclusives.”
“Fine. We’ll give him the morgue shots,” Hood said bitterly. “That’ll sell a few papers.”
“He’s a good man, Paul,” Ann replied. “He’s playing fair.”
“I suppose he is,” Hood replied. “At least there was a dialogue between you two. You spoke and reason prevailed. Remember reason, Ann? Remember reason and talk and negotiation?”